|“Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of to-day. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to be so little that the elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything, or each child has its fairy godmother in its own soul.”|
This is a picture of my son dropping snow in front of him… he had been playing on a sidewalk in front of a store while we were waiting for his dad to come out… No coat but gloves…. a snowball fight between him and his sissy soon followed… love how if you take the time you can make a mundane task of waiting fun…. It was fun for me, we had the camera with us and I got some other great shots that day as well.
intr.v. smirked, smirk·ing, smirks
It is photojournalism day over at I Heart Faces. Their definition of photojournalism is, using an image (or images) to tell a story.
The story here is An All American Boy enjoying an All American Treat, or better yet A Love for Root Beer Floats. Just look at the intensity on the boy’s face!
Have a great week!
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An oldie from about 5 years ago… The city we lived in at the time had a ceremony to re-open a bridge that had been closed for a while for repairs. It was called “Meet in the Middle”. Everyone thought the rain would ruin the walk, it actually made things more visually interesting with all the different umbrellas people were carrying. Love the fact that my baby girl was getting into the umbrella act here as well.
Click on the button above to see other terrific entries for this week’s theme.
“Not all worries end up as water under the bridge or over the dam. Some evaporate.”
~ Robert Brault
Where Did You Come From, Baby Dear?
Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here.
Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.
What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry spikes left in.
Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.
What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.
What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
I saw something better than anyone knows.
Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.
Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.
Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into hooks and bands.
Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs’ wings.
How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.
But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here.